Friday, January 25, 2013

Killing My Wife

A sorrow consumes me,
I seek to rid myself of it.

Like dependents need insulin,
Tight wound strands finger forward
To lock in place and be complete,
Slowly, activate, no half-truths,
No remorse.

I sit here, look at white tiles,
While the hospital kills my wife.

Unborn but bred, disdain the words
And tell of needs, individual,
Unheard. The woman gets no substance.
Ignored, the nightmare starts again,
Only after I awake. 

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